Hopefully Never
by wisher93
Summary: I wasn’t sure what I expected from Maggie, but a waiting room heart to heart was not on the list. Though it was justified. Every word. Spoilers for 1x16 'Invisible.' Something was missing from the hospital scene; maybe it was this. NEW CHAPTER. I didn’t plan on more, but feel it needed it.
1. Hopefully Never

OA-

I don't really know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn't. But I could see in Sam's eyes that he wasn't going to quit, wasn't going to give up and put the gun down. I could hear Maggie talking to him, telling him to look around. That he was already famous. Something distracted him and for just a few moments, he looked away. In that instant I could feel myself flying forward, part of me wondering why I was taking such a dangerous risk, and part of me knowing I had to, that I had to try.

I hardly recognized the sound of the gun firing in the moment, maybe because all I could feel was pain. It was everywhere, crushing me, leaving me gasping for breath as I fell to the floor.

I could hear Maggie's panic, could sense her fear and was sure that was the confirmation that I was, in fact, a goner. She was trying to comfort me.

"It's okay, it's okay." I somehow make out as I watched her lips form the words.

"Hold on, OA. Hold on," she demanded as she pulled the vest open and relief flooded her face.

"You're okay. It didn't go through. You're okay, you're okay."

Hearing the vest had stopped the bullet was reassuring, though the pain still incredibly intense. Still, I hated seeing Maggie so worried, on the verge of crying. I couldn't help but attempt a joke.

"It's still gonna leave a mark," I managed to gasp between stabbing breaths.

She didn't smile like I had hoped. Maybe my difficulty making the joke rendered the joke useless.

Maggie-

I saw it in his eyes before he lunged at the kid, though I'm not sure how I know what the Look meant. I was calling his name as he began to charge. Then I heard the shot, saw OA go down and he pulled the gun from Sam's hand. The moments it took to get Sam on the ground and Hank to take over felt indefinite.

I was completely and utterly terrified. I heard someone talking as I tried to pull open OA's vest and realized it was me trying to offer comfort. I wrestle it open and am so relieved when his chest is covered only by his shirt and not a pool of red.

I told him he's okay, that the bullet didn't go through and he started to breathe a little easier, though the pain is evident on his face. I saw panic begin to subside, probably reflecting the emotions I was expressing myself.

I hardly believed my ears when he attempted a joke. Seriously? He does something incredibly reckless, stupid, and trie to joke about it not even two minutes later? But I can't say anything because I'm just too relieved. Because the worst didn't happen. Not today. Hopefully never.

A few hours later we walk out of the doctor's office, me just behind him mostly because I was too worried to leave him, scared to lose him, though I'd never admit that to anybody. Instead I explained how I didn't expect him to tell the the true extent of his injuries.

The doctor tells him he'll be fine, that nothing is broken and time will heal all wounds. It surprises me that I suddenly felt like crying. Maybe because I can't help but think about what _could_ have happened. The doctor goes in another direction and I couldn't hold in the words any longer.

"What you did was stupid. You know that, right?" I say, a bit taken back by the anger I hear dripping from my words.

He's annoyed at first. I hear it and see it which makes me even angrier. How can he take this so lightly? Someone could have died. _He_ could have died!

"Yeah," he says.

"An innocent bystander could have been killed." I want him to say something, to explain.

"I know-" he starts, but suddenly I can't let him continue because, as much as I need him to explain it all to me, I have more I need to say.

"No OA. _You_ could have been killed!" How can he not see that!

"I know," he says again, but this time it's different.

It's softer, more apologetic, and I know that he _does_ see. He _does_ understand.

"I just acted on instinct," he continues.

"Instinct? Your instinct was reckless." I had to look away then, seeing too much pain, too many what-ifs in his eyes.

I can't stop the next words from flying out. "And it scared me. Don't do that again."

I'm on the verge of tears, emotions unchecked, still struggling to comprehend everything that has happened. The look he gives me, the raw, understanding look, tells me he get it because he's putting himself in my shoes, feeling what I feel just by imagining the roles had been reversed.

Sam's dad walks up behind us pulling us from the bubble we had just been in, the bubble that allowed us to say those things, to be honest. There's more to be said and I see it in the look OA gives me as he breaks eye contact to turn his attention back to the man. But it's too late now, the bubble has been popped.

Hearing what he had to say, how thankful he was that OA saved his son, I wish it didn't change anything. I wish I could still be mad at OA, because being mad was so much easier than what else I was feeling: hurt, sadness, doubt, so much more I can't even put into words.

As the man walks away, headed toward the second floor to be with his son, OA turns back to me. I see the tears he's trying to hide that match my own and, while there are so many things I was to say, need to say, I know I can't. Not now. So I do the only the I can: I hold his gaze and shake my head trying to tell him everything without words. For now that's all I can do.

I guess it's enough because he turns a little so he's half facing me and holds out one arm, cringing just a little for lifting it too high. I just look at him, but he keeps it raised.

"Don't make me stand like this all day," he jokes lightly.

I scoff and roll my eyes, though I can't help but walk to his side for a hug. He sighs in relief, and I do as well as I remind myself for the hundredth time that he's alive. The worst didn't happen. Not today. Hopefully never.

We head toward the exit of the hospital. Despite the pain he must still be in despite the pain relief meds he was given, he holds the door for me.

"Does this mean you'll do my paperwork for me?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Pfff, no," I respond in fake disbelief. "Getting shot definitely doesn't get you out of paperwork. Suck it up, buttercup."

He pretends to scowl but I see right through it. "Buttercup? Come on! I can hardly move!" he whines, though I know he's just messing with me.

I shrug. "Guess you should have been more careful," as I slide into the driver's seat and put the keys in the ignition. "In fact," I continue as he closes the passenger side door behind him, "I think you should have to do mine for at least a month for all that unnecessary worry and stress."

He looks at me, mouth open, eyes wide. "That's a _terrible_ idea. Honestly..." It's his turn to look at me in disbelief as he shakes his head.

I pull out of the lot and turn left instead of right which leads to the JOC. OA looks at me, eyes smug, a smile on his face that says he won, thinking I'm taking him home. But not yet.

"We're not going to your place, jerk. You at least owe me lunch. If you hadn't gotten shot I would have been able to eat hours ago. And it will cost you a milkshake if you think I'm going to finish today's paperwork without you, but don't expect it tomorrow. You've got to start pulling your own weight around here!" I give him a look that says, 'don't even bother trying to argue.' He just smiles and shakes his head as I pull into a small diner.

We fall in sync with each other as we walk to the door and I am, again, thankful to have another day, nother meal, with my partner. The worst didn't happen. Not today. Hopefully never.

OA-

I wasn't sure what I expected from Maggie, but the waiting room heart to heart was not on the list. I have to say, the annoyance I felt at the start faded away as quickly as it came when I realized this wasn't about me doing the wrong thing. It was out of fear that she had lost me. How easily I could put myself in her shoes, imagine what she had been feeling to understand why she was reacting so strongly. It's justified. Every word.

It was her last words that touched me the most. I could hear them on repeat in my head.

"And it scared me. Don't do that again."

I can't imagine watching her get shot. I pray I we will never be in a situation that leads to that. And seeing the tears that threatened to fall combined with my own emotions was nearly too much for me as well.

I didn't know what else to do but hold out my arm for a hug. She didn't accept at first,

of course not, but a joke later she was hugging my side. That's when I knew we were okay. The last of the fear I was holding dissipated and I could completely breathe again despite the pain in my chest.

As we arrived at the small diner and I was told I was buying lunch, I couldn't even argue. We were both here, both alive, and she did offer to do my paperwork for the day. Not that I'd ever actually let her do that though I still bought two milkshakes. If for no other reason than to see her smile. After all, we have reason to celebrate. The worst didn't happen. Not today. Hopefully never.

AN: Okay, so who completely flipped out at last nights episode? So much emotion and tension. CRAZY! I just watched it for the first time and will probably watch it many more because there is so much to learn about the characters from the episode. It's always hard getting into the heads of these two, but I hope I did it well. I feel like something was needed after that scene in the hospital, and this is what I came up with. Let me know what you think!


	2. Not Ever

I never intended to write any more to this story than the first chapter, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized it was missing. If you don't agree, feel free to not continue and let the first chapter tell the story. But if you are also hoping for a little more, please carry on.

To my faithful readers who take their time to read and respond to everything FBI I write: I write because you give me inspiration and make me excited to share. I would not be the writer I am without you and your feedback no matter how big or small. Thank you a million times. This chapter is for you. XOXO

Maggie-

Despite the milkshake at lunch OA had argued with me until I agreed to take him to the JOC. There we spent several hours going over the paperwork that we would have had to finish eventually. I was glad to finish it because that meant it could be put to bed. It was over and despite it all, OA was okay. Alive.

We part ways before 7:00 as the sky is just starting to turn dark blue and black. He probably shouldn't be driving himself, but it's a battle not worth fighting. As I watch him drive away, I am left with nothing but my thoughts. Without OA in front of me to remind me of the positive outcome, scenarios that end in tears are all I have to keep me company.

I give up on sleep around two in the morning after tossing and turning for hours. The image of OA on the ground shot and dying in front of me is too much for sleep. I don't know how many tears I cry, feeling stupid inside for not being able to get a handle on my emotions. It can't be like this each time we get into trouble.

I'm not sure exactly when I manage to drift off, but as soon as I do OA's in front of me again, dying, as I try to keep enough pressure on his wound to keep him alive.

"Maggie," he keeps whispering over and over even after I know he's dead. His whispers turn into a mocking sound and his words change to, "it's your fault. How could you. You failed me."

His blood becomes a sea that I'm drowning in, and I swear I can taste the bitter, metallic blood in my mouth.

I bolt awake to my own scream, drenching in sweat, blood coming from my cheek which I bit in my sleep. I hardly make it to the bathroom before I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I'm still shaking as I rinse my mouth and dry my face with a towel.

I can't keep doing this. I have to see him, confirm one last time he's okay. I slip on a sweatshirt and shoes, grab my keys off the end table, and, because I'm terrified I'll need it, I attach my gun to my waistband.

I can't hardly admit to myself where I'm going as I drive the familiar streets to his apartment. I know it's ridiculous to be going and in the middle of the night no less. But I can't stop.

I park on the street in front of his place and barely take time to grab the key out of the ignition before I'm running up to his apartment. I stop in front of his door suddenly feeling foolish. It's four in the morning; he'll be sleeping. But my hand moves of its own accord to the wood and knocks quietly three times.

To my surprise, I hear footsteps shuffle on the other side of the door. I head a pause as he undoubtedly looks through the peephole wondering who could be here so early in the morning.

A moment later he is unlocking the deadbolt and swinging open the door. It's not even all the way open before I am lunging myself into him. He groans at the impact as I collide with his bruised chest, and I'd feel worse about hurting him if his arms slowly wrapping around me didn't feel so good.

He holds me for I don't know how long, his arms tight around me, chin resting on top of my head. I start to relax and memories of the nightmare begin to dissolve.

"Mags?" he finally asks as he pulls away just enough to see my face. I look at him, but again find myself unable to speak just like when Sam's father had finished talking to OA at the hospital. Tears fill my eyes and I have to close them to keep them from spilling over.

"Maggie, it's okay. I'm okay," he says softly. "Look at me."

I open my eyes, shaking my head as I say again the words that threaten to open the dam of words I want so badly to say but know I can't.

"Don't do that to me ever again. Please." My voice breaks and tears fall. I'm not sure if I'm relieved that I get another chance to say those words, horrified he is seeing me cry, or both.

His hands reach up and rest on both sides of my face as his thumbs brush away the tears. Then he pulls me to his chest again and his strong arms hold me tight once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so, so sorry."

He begins rocking back and forth swaying to the beat of unheard music, and I focus on the sound of his beating heart. My hands that were clenching the back of his shirt begin to unfold, my heartbeat begins to slow and my eyes lids begin to droop.

"You're so tired," he says gently, but I shake my head hurriedly. He chuckles quickly, but then nods.

"Come on, then," he says leading me down the hallway.

He pulls the bedspread down from one side of his bed and motions for me to get under the covers. I look at him, brow furrowed.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he explains.

I shake my head again. "No, you're hurt. I will-"

"You're too tired to argue. Get in here."

He's right. I can hardly keep my eyes open, the emotion and strain of the day weighing down on me. I nod, slide off my shoes and oblige. He slides the back of his fingers down my cheek to my chin.

"Good night, Mags."

"Good night," I respond.

He starts to walk away, and again I act rashly. I grab his hand tightly and say, "wait."

He turns to look at me.

"What's wrong?" Concern is evident on his face as he waits for an answer. I don't know how to ask for what I want, my eyes searching both of his for the words I can't find.

OA-

Sleep is out of the question despite how tired I am. Thoughts of a more unlucky scenario and occasions that lead to my partner being shot instead of me are more than I can handle in the dark of night. I expect to not sleep. I don't expect a 4:00 AM visit.

Im not sure who I expect to see as I look through the peephole, but as soon as I see it's her, I open the door. She looks terrible: exhausted and terrified. Still, she looks beautiful as always.

She flies into my arms hitting me a little too hard, though I don't really mind. I wrap my arms around her needing to remind myself she's okay, that the terrible daydreams and would-have-been nightmares were not real. I wonder if she's here for the same reason.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but eventually I can't contain my worry any longer.

"Mags?"

She doesn't speak, but tears fill her eyes almost instantly and I'm reminded of the hospital when so much needed to be said, but the words were too hard to find.

"Maggie, it's okay. I'm okay," I say to her, begging her to understand that nothing serious happened. "Look at me," I plead, needing to see her eyes, willing her to see me here in front of her. Alive.

She looks at me finally and says familiar words that rip into me.

"Don't do that to me ever again. Please."

I see tears pouring down her face and can't handle how much I've hurt her. I took a chance but it could have done so much damage. It could have hurt someone else. Could have hurt her. I know I would feel the exact same way if she had been hurt. Now I know exactly why she's here. All the things both spoken and unsaid, actions, looks. It all makes sense.

I reach up and grab both sides of her face and do my best to wipe the tears away. The tears I've caused. I feel tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes so I pull her tight to me just as much for my benefit as for hers. Emotion overwhelms me as I whisper to her how truly sorry I am.

The emotion only builds until I'm swaying back and forth. I can feel the tension begin to melt away as Maggie's shoulders and head drop. Her hands, that I didn't realize were clenched in my shirt, slide down my back just a little, and I feel her start to drift off.

"You're so tired," I tell her, but instantly panic returns as she shakes her head. I can't help but laugh a little because I understand what she's feeling. I don't want her to leave either. So I lead her down the hall to bed because I won't leave her to sleep on the couch.

As I pull back the sheets she eyes me and I can tell she's confused. I explain I'll sleep on the couch, and, of course, she argues. But she has so little fight left in her that it doesn't take much to convince her to do what I ask. As she does, I slide the back of my fingers down her cheek, needing one more tangible reminder we're both fine.

"Good night, Mags," I whisper as I turn to leave.

"Good night," she says in response.

I start to walk away, but her hand darts out and grabs mine.

"Wait," she says so quiet I hardly make it out.

Worry fills me again. I can't help it. I ask what's wrong, though I already know the answer. She just looks at me like she doesn't know how to ask for what she needs. I let go of her hand as I step away and she closes her eyes like she's trying to hide the hurt. She thinks I'm leaving. But instead I walk around to the other side of the bed and lay down on top of the covers.

Maggie-

I feel the other side of the bed dip down, and the hurt I was feeling as he walk away turns into relief. I turn toward him as he lays down on top of the covers. He smiles then, while reaching out one hand. I give him a half smile in return, my fear of losing him still not completely gone, and reach out to grab his hand in mine.

That's how we wake up the next morning: hand in hand, starting to heal from the hurt, doubt and questions yesterday left. And in the midst of it all are the unspoken words that we still managed to say. Words that will heal everything with a little time.

The worst didn't happen. Not now. Not ever.


End file.
